Orbit
by RainIsMyFavouriteColour
Summary: FULL SUMMARY INSIDE. When Lance gets involved in a bar fight (because hey, surely a thing such as legal intergalactic drinking age doesn't apply to a Paladin of Voltron), the reason is a surprising one, especially for Keith. Gay crisis, and events no one could have anticipated, ensue.
1. Chapter 1

FULL SUMMARY:

When Lance gets involved in a bar fight (because hey, surely a thing such as legal intergalactic drinking age doesn't apply to a Paladin of Voltron), the reason is a surprising one, especially for Keith. Inspired by this post, it marks the beginnings of several kinds of awakenings for the two of them, but something no one anticipated was that Lance's actions would have far reaching consequences.

Only Lance would manage to walk into a bar occupied by the space mafia and insult their leader.

– O –

A/N: this is my first fic for voltron so I apologise for possible OOC-ness. I promise I'll try my best to get better. Also sorry for any grammar mistakes etc.

* * *

"I can't believe you!"

Lance had the decency to look at least a little bit ashamed of himself as Allura began her tirade, long skirts swishing around her ankles as she paced back and forth. Coran stood still behind her, throwing in the occasional nod and noises of agreement while glowering at Lance. Maybe it was the residual adrenaline, but it took all of his self-control not to start giggling at the way Coran's moustache quivered in outrage, each nod renewing the intensity with which it bobbed up and down.

"You are a Paladin, you are Voltron!" Allura was saying, emphasising her little speech with wild hand gestures. Beneath her tanned skin, her face looked red. She had to be furious.

"No shit, Sherlock." Pidge muttered from somewhere behind Lance, and he jumped. Had he just said that out loud? Pidge quirked an eyebrow at him as he glanced over at her, mouth slightly agape. He quickly turned back to the front only to see Coran puffing up his chest in outrage at his inattention, The Mighty Moustache quivering in righteous anger. Laughter tickled its way up Lance's throat.

"Do you have any idea how much you have disgraced Voltron's name?" Allura continued, ignoring the little exchange, barely coming to a stop in front of him before she kept talking, each word punctuated by Coran nodding. The moustache was reaching never before breeched moustache-jumping speed, the span of time between reaching its highest and lowest points less than a tick. Lance pressed his lips together in a thin line in a last ditch effort of keeping his laughter in check. He nearly winced at the pain bursting forth from the cut in his lower lip, having forgotten all about it.

"Uh…a lot…?" he managed to press out, a small giggle escaping him at the end despite all of his best efforts. Maybe it had more to do with some of that weird space punch he'd had earlier, rather than adrenaline?

There was a number of small groans behind him, the rest of team Voltron having been more or less forced to watch as Lance was being disciplined. Silence ensued as Allura stopped mid-sentence, fixing him with a steely glare that made any trace of humour in his body disappear. Part of Lance wanted to cut the suddenly palpable tension in the air with one of his suave pick up lines, but another part told him that that course of action would probably get him his balls cut off. And, like any healthy teenage boy, or everyone possessing male anatomy as far as he knew, Lance was rather fond of them, thank you very much.

He wisely kept his mouth shut.

"Princess," Shiro cut in, just as Allura looked like she was going to do something far worse than castrate Lance on the spot – _brave man, that Shiro_ , Lance thought admiringly – "I understand your anger, and let me assure you," here, Shiro shot him a stern glance, "Lance will suffer the necessary consequences, but no harm – alright, not much – has come of it. No charges are being pressed and nothing has been damaged."

Allura sighed, visibly placated enough for her skin to lose its red undertone, but Lance scoffed underneath his breath.

"If anyone should be pressing charges it should be me." he muttered, then flinched at the multiple glares aimed in his direction.

"Dude, shut up!" Hunk hissed. Lance whirled around, suddenly pissed off all over again.

"You don't know what happened, you weren't there! You would have –"

"Not become involved in a bar brawl for no reason." Shiro cut him off, grabbing Lance by the arm. Lance glared at him, attempting to get his arm back, but Shiro's grip was too strong. Shiro's gaze was unwavering, jaw set, not breaking eye contact until Lance finally had to blink and look away.

"…I trust you, Shiro." Allura spoke up again, watching their little stare off with narrowed eyes. Her arms were crossed over her chest, face pulled into a visibly displeased expression. "Make sure he learns his lesson. Meanwhile, " and now she addressed all of them although Lance had the distinct impression she was talking to him, "the healing pods are still malfunctioning, most likely because of some residual Galra energy. We are switching them off until we can flush all of it out completely, so I suggest none of you get hurt in the meantime. Obviously, it is a bit late for Lance, but I hope you can all learn from his example."

With that, she swept out the room, taking the thick atmosphere with her. Shiro finally let go of Lance, and he breathed in, rubbing his arm. He coughed, breaking the disapproving silence Allura had left behind.

"Well, I sure hope you didn't leave any bruises, I'm delicate, y'know? Gotta keep my looks impeccable for the ladies, don't want to deprive them of eye candy such as myself –"

Shiro rolled his eyes.

"I'd worry more about your face, Casanova." Pidge interrupted Lance unceremoniously, passing him by. She poked him right in the bruising around his left eye, prompting him to hiss in pain and bat her hand away. "Oooh, that looks uuugly."

"Shut up, Pidge." Lance grudgingly told her back as she disappeared out of the hall, glowering at the casual wave she threw over her shoulder. She was closely followed by Keith whose indecipherable stare lingered on him just a moment too long to appear casual. Lance suddenly felt cold, naked.

Did Keith know, that it had been about him? That technically, that jerk was just as much responsible for the brawl as Lance was? Goddammit, why did Lance have to get involved anyway? It hadn't been any of his business, hell, he should have just laughed with them, so why had he felt angry and protective of that unfashionable mullethead?

Hunk came up to his side, clearing his throat.

"Just one question." he interrupted Lance's impending existential crisis, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Keith, you fucking – " Lance ground out, ignoring Hunk as he shot a murderous look at the door Keith had gone through.

"Language." Shiro calmly stopped him in his tracks, landing an equal parts assuring and warning hand on his shoulder. It felt heavy. "Go get some sleep, we'll work on proper 'punishment' tomorrow."

The weight of Shiro's hand disappeared as he left the two of them, Hunk scrutinising Lance from the side with undisguised worry.

"What gives? It was just a stupid fight at a bar, wasn't it?" Hunk tried again, nudging Lance lightly with his elbow. Lance disguised his wince as a cough, ignoring the throbbing from his side. Hunk repeated, more insistently this time, "What were you thinking?"

 _What_ was _I thinking?_

 _Keith_.

Lance swallowed, panic working its way back into his chest and into a lump forming in his throat.

"Nothing."

– O –

Lance fell onto his bed, clothes and all, and groaned. It was a rather pathetic sound but he couldn't quite bring himself to care. Then he groaned again, this time in pain, because he somehow kept forgetting he'd gotten himself injured and beaten up for that jerk, and really, the least he could have done was not to look so accusing when Lance had been chewed out by the princess –

There was a knock on the door, momentarily halting his train of thought. Lance lifted his face from where it had been squashed into his pillow, squinting at the door.

"…Who is it?"

Granted, there was a very small selection of possible candidates to choose from, but he wasn't particularly keen on seeing anyone at the moment, not when his thoughts were all over the place, and when at least half out of everyone here was pissed at him.

"Open up." came the reply, predictably without an actual introduction. To Lance's utter dismay and self-disgust, he recognised the voice at once. Admittedly, it wasn't particularly the instant recognition which surprised him – oh no, Lance had memorised the sound of Keith's voice embarrassingly fast – but the accompanying storm of emotions, led by a strange mixture of relief and anger.

"Go away!"

Lance scrambled into a seated position, clutching the pillow to himself, even as Keith completely ignored his more or less shrieked order and let himself in. Lance made an indignant sound, matched by an equally indignant expression as he glared up at Keith coming closer until he stood right in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Lance asked, voice annoyingly scratchy. He had not been crying, dammit. Keith said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow as he lifted a hand. Lance dumbly stared at what he was holding.

A first aid kit.

"Why do you have that?"

Lance could feel the mattress dip under Keith's weight as he sat across from him, unhurriedly unpacking the little box. Lance's eyebrow twitched at his continued silence, warily watching as Keith took out a bunch of bandages, band aids, cotton balls and a small, opaque bottle. He leaned back, instantly suspicious, as Keith took one cotton ball, dipped it into whatever was in the bottle, and neared his face with it. Keith sighed.

"It's just disinfectant."

Lance eyed the cotton ball.

"How do I know you're not lying? Maybe you're trying to poison me."

"If I wanted to poison you, I wouldn't be putting it on your face but pour it down your throat." Keith tried to reason, voice strained with obvious effort at attempting to sound calming.

"Maybe you're just trying to distract me – oh my god!" Lance gasped, clutching at his chest with wide eyes and pointing a finger at Keith, "That's what this is, isn't it, you're pretending to be nice so you can slowly gain my trust and when I've finally let my guard down – never gonna happen, by the way, I'm ever vigilant, okay, _my reflexes are as fast as the speed of light_ – ow, fuck!" Lance yelped, falling over backwards as Keith thrust the cotton ball at his face. It made contact with a cut on his temple, burning like the deepest pits of hell.

"Will you _shut up_ , you're such a baby!" Keith hissed, straddling Lance to keep him from moving away any more. The cotton ball was pressed insistently into the cut, the pain intensifying for a few seconds before fading into nothing. Lance relaxed underneath Keith for just a moment before tensing up again at realising what position they were in. He blanched.

"Get off of me!" Lance bucked, trying to throw Keith off. Keith jumped off his lap immediately, tops of his cheeks dusted a light pink even as he threw him an unimpressed look.

"If you'd just let me help you, I wouldn't have to sit on you to keep you still." Keith lifted the offensive cotton ball – deceivingly soft and fluffy for something that felt like a mini fireball – in one hand and the disinfectant – if that was what it really was – in the other. He cocked an eyebrow challengingly. "So, what will it be?"

Lance held his stare for a few seconds before looking away, a silent permission for Keith to come closer. Keith wasted no time, continuing with 'helping' him. Speaking of which –

"Why are you doing this?"

Keith's movements stilled momentarily before continuing as if nothing had happened.

"You're hurt. And the healing pods aren't working." he replied, as if that was a completely normal thing to say. Hmm. Maybe it was, in general, but it also wasn't – not for them, anyway. Lance snorted, letting it pass. For now.

"Right. Because Allura would really let me near one after that." he scoffed, stopping mid-wince when Keith gave him another one of those don't-be-such-a-sissy-looks. The room lapsed into silence as Keith got to the split in Lance's lip, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

It wasn't exactly a comfortable place to be, not when Lance was forced to realise how close Keith was, how careful and surprisingly gentle his hands were as he treated the countless cuts Lance hadn't even been aware of until now, littering his skin.

Keith was warm, his hands rough from calluses, witness to his hard work and training. There was a small grove between his eyebrows, drawn together in concentration, dark eyelashes long and in stark contrast to the pale colour of his face. Warm puffs of air brushed Lance's mouth from how close Keith was as he breathed in and out, and Lance was mesmerised because Keith –

Well, Keith was, for lack of better term, beautiful. Purely and simply, beautiful.

Was he even aware of how close he was, that it would really only take a dip of Lance's head to kiss him?

Before Lance could even comprehend that thought, much less start freaking out over where it had come from, Keith moved away. It was only when disappointment was Lance's first reaction to the added distance between them, that he began to question whether that brawl had possibly damaged his brain too.

"So, want to tell me why exactly you felt the need to start trouble during our first bit of peace since all of this started?" Keith's question invaded his thoughts, tone measured but edged with genuine curiosity. Lance instinctively dropped his gaze to the ground, strangely embarrassed but also defiantly proud of what he'd done. He cleared his throat, gathering himself, before he looked up with a flirty smirk. It didn't feel quite as solid or right as it usually did. Maybe because of the lip injury.

"Why do you think? The ladies couldn't keep their hands off me, how was I supposed to know their boyfriends were there?" Lance shrugged, tone casual. Keith didn't even crack a smile as he began to pack his medical supplies away.

The thing about injuries though, is that they still hurt even when you forget about them. So when Lance suddenly moved, a sharp pain in his side making him grimace, one hand came up to cover it in reflex. He tried to hide the instinctive movement but Keith had already spotted it, grabbing Lance's wrist in one hand and the hem of his shirt in his other. Lance suddenly couldn't breathe.

"H-hey! What – " he sputtered, attempting to wind himself out of Keith's grip, only to yelp when cold air met his skin as his shirt was yanked upward. Keith stared at Lance's ribcage, horror clear on his face. Lance stilled, wincing. "Is it that bad?"

Lance regretted asking almost immediately, Keith's eyes slowly rising to meet his. Their depths were burning with an emotion Lance was too familiar with, especially after tonight. But that was –

"How did you not feel this?" Keith asked, voice deadly calm, as he finally dropped Lance's wrist and gently traced the mottled skin with his finger. Lance suppressed a shiver, chancing a look at what had shocked Keith so. And stared.

"Oh wow."

It hadn't just felt like his whole ribcage was hurt, it probably was. Spanning from just below his armpit down to below his waist, a huge, purplish-black bruise edged with blue and green painted Lance's side a painful, and very colourful, rainbow. Lance swallowed, remembering back to the fight. His fist clenched by his side.

"I must've been even more pissed off than I thought…" he absentmindedly said, insults and derogatory words echoing in his head. All he could really remember about it was how furious he had been, his memory nothing but a red-hot, hazy blur.

Keith pressed against the bruise experimentally, earning a loud curse from Lance as he scooted away from him. Keith looked up at him questioningly, hand still raised.

"Why were you angry? Wouldn't all those boyfriends have more of a right to that than you?"

Lance's eyes widened as he realised his mistake. He scrambled off the bed, clearing his throat as he tugged at his shirt and studiously avoided looking at Keith.

"Y-yeah, but see, I got pissed because they went after my face. It's my best asset, c'mon, you know how –" he tried to save some of his dignity. Keith stood too, eyes flinty and mouth drawn into a disbelieving frown.

"Pissed enough not to feel a couple of cracked ribs?" he asked, tone dripping with sarcasm as he crossed his arms. His fingers tapped impatiently. "What happened, Lance? We all know you're not the smartest or best at self-control, but to get in a fight that bad over something like that?"

 _You're a Paladin, you're Voltron!_

Lance swallowed, not even insulted as his panic returned with vengeance. Hadn't the whole reason for that fight been in the name of Voltron? In the name of being a Paladin, being a good team mate who defended another team mate?

"I – yeah, okay. You're right." Lance slumped, suddenly dead-tired. "That's – not what happened."

Keith stayed quiet, waiting. Part of Lance was surprised he wasn't shaking the story out of him; Keith wasn't exactly known for being patient. Maybe he could just talk his way around this – one look at his face assured Lance though that no, Keith wasn't going to listen to any more bullshit today. Lance sighed.

"Look, let's just say – there were some people there, okay? Talking about Voltron, you know, the usual – " at first, Lance had been flattered since it seemed like Voltron's fame was spreading but that had quickly changed – " but they just kinda – started bashing on us. Talking shit about everyone."

"You should've ignored them." Keith interjected, tone exasperated. Lance flinched.

"Yeah. I was going to. But – " here, he halted again, pride keeping him from continuing. Keith, quick as lighting, jabbed a finger at Keith's bruised side, earning a pained shout and glare. "Jeez, what the hell, _stop_ – I'll tell you, okay? Just, don't do that."

It still took Lance a good few deep breaths and at least 10 seconds of gathering his composure before he finally bit the bullet.

"I was going to walk away, alright? But then they started going on about the Red Lion, about you, and I – I just lost it." Lance lowered his eyes, vaguely ashamed, even as his voice barely wavered. "But I'm – I'm not sorry."

There. It was out. Lance braced himself for laughter but it never came. He opened his eyes by a slit, chancing a glance.

Keith looked – stunned. His eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. Somehow, for the first time since meeting him, Lance had managed to completely catch him off guard. That was nearly enough to put Lance back into a good mood again. He could feel a genuine smirk tug at his mouth.

"Weren't expecting that, hmm? Me, the gallant knight, defending your honour –"

Keith punched him in the shoulder, hard enough to hurt and freeze Lance's smirk, but not enough so he didn't notice the red slowly creeping up Keith's neck and darkening the tips of his ears.

"I can fight my own battles." Keith's voice was stable but Lance thought he could hear a tiny tremor, a crack in his composure. Lance's smirk widened.

"Like you're not flattered –"

"Shut up." Keith's face was definitely red now, even as he tried to turn away from Lance as fast as he could. "Just – don't move. I'm coming back with some cremes for your bruising."

The door shut behind him before Lance could reply, but he suddenly felt like he was on an emotional high, Allura's lecture as good as forgotten.

That could have gone a lot worse than he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: Lance's protectiveness has more of an impact than anticipated...

A/N: warning, it may get a little bit darker toward the end...just like the rest of this fic. Dw, there will still be plenty of shenanigans and hilarity, it just might, uh, take a bit of a detour

* * *

Keith brought around his bayard just in time to parry the Gladiator's strike, blades colliding with a loud clanging noise. His hair and shirt were drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling as he breathed hard, whirling around when the Gladiator disappeared only to materialise behind him and continue its attack. Keith clenched his jaw, muscles burning with exertion as he retaliated.

It was either very early or very late, but he didn't care enough to bother to find out. They were in space anyway, so there was no way of telling what time of the day it was or even if something like a 'day' existed. They'd been aboard Allura's castle for long enough that Keith didn't make much of a distinction anymore, time merely separated by periods of sleep or wakefulness. Lately, he hadn't been sleeping much at all, so the line between being awake or asleep was a little blurry. The only reason he knew he shouldn't be up, was because Lance's 'disciplining' had been mere hours ago, and that had been around when everyone began to retire to bed.

But Keith had better things to do than think about unimportant things like how time passed in space or stupid team mates who got into fights to 'defend his honour' - he stumbled, landing wrong from an attempt to jump out of the Gladiator's way. Lance's bruised side flashed across Keith's memory unbidden, but he managed to quickly regain his balance. He cursed lowly as the Gladiator's sword whistled past his face, nicking his cheek.

 _"They started going on about the Red Lion, about you, and I – I just lost it."_

His stomach flipped, heart skipping a beat, both of which he attributed to the rush of adrenaline caused by the increased speed of the Gladiator's movements. It bore down on him fast and hard, until he was barely able to counter or dodge its precise swings.

Keith narrowly avoided being speared through the shoulder, only to be caught unawares by a brutal kick to his stomach. He crashed to the ground, the wind knocked out of his lungs. The Gladiator moved closer, its footfalls so heavy on the ground that it vibrated with foreboding.

Its shadow fell across Keith threateningly as it towered over him. He attempted to speak but couldn't suck in enough air to even make a single sound. He wheezed, watching the Gladiator lift its weapon. Dread began to unfurl in his stomach. The thought of Allura needing to find another Paladin for Red flashed across his mind as the blade glinted in the bright training lights on its way down. He was immobilised, unable to get his lungs or exhausted muscles to work. Keith's whole body felt about as jiggly and spineless as food goo. He closed his eyes, tensing himself for that final blow and nothing else.

What a shitty way to die, distracted by his own thoughts and stupidity…

"End sequence!" Shiro's voice rang out, cutting through the air as effectively as the Gladiator would have Keith's neck, if he hadn't arrived at that exact moment. Keith felt the very tip of its blade at his throat, cold and sharp, before it disappeared. His lungs filled with air, fast and shallow, but at least he was breathing again. He opened his eyes. A heartbeat later, Shiro was by his side, eyes anxious and mouth drawn into a frown.

"What were you doing? Why didn't you tell it to stop earlier?" he asked, sounding more frantic than Keith was used to hearing from him. When Keith merely wheezed and coughed in response, still laying on his back like a helpless bug, Shiro hauled him into an upright position, brows pinched together in worry. "Are you hurt?"

Keith could only shake his head, wiping at the already congealing gash on his cheek. He flinched when Shiro slapped his shoulder.

"Didn't you hear the princess say that the healing pods aren't working at the moment? You have to be more careful." Shiro reprimanded him, eyebrows pulled together in disapproval. "Imagine what would have happened if I hadn't come by when I did –"

"S-sorry." Keith finally managed to say, still winded. His stomach hurt. He slowly got back to his feet, Shiro hovering by his side as if he expected him to fall again at any moment. "I'll pay more attention next time."

 _"I'm not sorry."_

Keith stiffened.

"You'd better. Don't make me babysit you while you train." Shiro told him half-jokingly once he was sure Keith was unharmed. Apparently though, he'd noticed the rigid set of Keith's shoulders because just a moment later, Shiro followed up with a cautious, "Are you sure you're alright?"

Keith didn't reply right away, Lance's admission ringing in his ears, but then realised Shiro had said something. He shook his head lightly, trying to clear it. He rubbed at his stomach absentmindedly.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Nothing some sleep can't fix." he rushed to reassure Shiro, then paused. He kept his gaze on Keith, seeming to sense there was something he wanted to say, and patiently waited for him to speak.

Why was Keith so hesitant to ask? It wasn't anything to be embarrassed about, surely?

"Keith?" Shiro gently prompted when the silence had stretched on a bit longer than seemed appropriate. Keith internally shook himself, sternly telling himself to stop being an idiot.

"Say…hypothetically, if someone started talking badly about someone you'd consider…", Keith started slowly, then stopped halfway. What exactly was his and Lance's relationship outside that of being teammates? Friends? Acquaintances?

Something else altogether?

Keith shivered.

What was Keith to Lance?

"…a friend…," was what he decided to settle on, "What would you do?"

Shiro looked at him thoughtfully, head tilted to the side as he considered his question. Keith couldn't help but feel a little wary; somehow, the way Shiro wasn't just looking _at_ but _through_ him made him think he knew something Keith didn't.

"I won't ask who this 'hypothetical friend' is," Shiro began, crossing his arms. Keith inclined his head. He had a feeling Shiro knew who this was about anyway, "but I suppose I would have tried to settle the matter peacefully. It depends on who exactly was doing the 'talking badly' bit, but talking things out can work wonders."

"Hm." Keith made a noise that neither expressed agreement nor disagreement. "So, you wouldn't get…angry?"

Shiro's eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, mouth set into a stern line.

"Maybe. But not to the point of violence."

Keith winced. He'd been caught.

"Speaking of, where is Lance?" Shiro asked before he could say anything more on the matter. Keith looked at him in surprise.

"How should I know? Is that why you came here?"

Shiro shrugged.

"You seem to be getting along better lately, so I figured it wouldn't be out of the question to find you two sparring." he offhandedly explained, much to Keith's shock. They were getting along 'better'? Did that definition include not being able to be in the same room for longer than five minutes without wanting to strangle each other? Not that that kind of behaviour was of his own choosing, but still. "Obviously he isn't here, but I thought I'd ask anyway."

"We're not." Keith almost snapped, managing to reign in his tone just in time. "Getting along better, I mean."

"Oh?" Shiro raised his eyebrows. Keith really didn't like how doubting he sounded. "I thought he was your 'friend'?"

 _Ugh._

Why, oh why, did his face have to choose now of all times to blush? He could feel his cheeks warming in a way that he knew had nothing to do with training and everything to do with the way Shiro was looking at him much too knowingly.

"That's not – argh!" Keith threw up his arms, barely throwing a, "I'm going to sleep!" over his shoulder as he stormed out of the training room. _Stupid Shiro, stupid Lance_ , it repeated in his head all the way to his room. Keith muttered angrily to himself, stripping on his way to his bathroom.

Thank goodness for small mercies that each room had individual bathrooms, including showers. It was where Keith did his best thinking, standing beneath a spray of hot water, and he was in sore need of sorting out his thoughts. Tight muscle began to unwind as soon as the water began to clear his skin of grime and sweat, but even as his body relaxed, his mind couldn't.

It was when his thoughts lingered on yesterday's admittedly uncharacteristic event of him actually giving enough of a damn about Lance to treat his injuries, the resulting confession and Shiro's knowing tone, that Keith realised that maybe, he had a question to ask himself too.

What was Lance to Keith?

\- O -

Keith's hands were warm and sure as they bandaged up Lance's side, the lotion applied underneath causing a tingling sensation on his skin. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, much more preferable to the previous dull throbbing of his ribs anyway.

Lance couldn't quite hide how much Keith's close proximity in order to wrap the gauze around him affected him; his body felt hot wherever Keith's naked skin grazed his and his head felt like it was overheating. He could feel himself flushing all over. Keith's breath brushed his face in regular intervals, his eyes flicking upward when he caught Lance shivering.

"Are you cold?" Keith asked, moving even closer to grab Lance's discarded t-shirt on the bed. Lance's throat went dry. Keith was so, so warm, his body heat radiating off of him and warming Lance's already uncomfortably heated body. All it would take was a slight turn of his head, Keith's lips so temptingly close, he could feel the moisture on them. It could so easily be brushed off as an accident…, "…Lance?"

Had Keith's voice always been so low? Lance suppressed another shiver, the sound only heating fuel to the fire raging within him. He felt feverish. He shook his head in belated answer, trying to smile at Keith in reassurance but then froze. Keith hadn't moved at all, eyes intense and focused on Lance's face, periodically glancing down at – _was Keith looking at his mouth?_

Did he feel the same kind of strange magnetism between them, wanting to reach out and touch even though they shouldn't?

Lance swallowed, then tried to clear his throat with limited success. A lump was firmly lodged there, and his tongue felt too thick for his mouth.

"I'm…I'm okay." he managed to say, more of a soft whisper than anything, but it seemed to echo in the otherwise quiet room. Keith didn't react, not giving any indication that he had heard him. His eyes were half-lidded now, and it gave Lance a jolt to realise that Keith was leaning in. That could only mean one thing.

Lance's heart thudded in his chest, brain frozen in complete shock, even as a sense of excited anticipation began to grow within him. He closed his eyes, waiting…

 _"Lance, you awake? Shiro's looking for you."_

Keith's warmth began to disappear just as Lance's side started to flare up again. Something was wrong.

"Yo, Lance!"

 _Wha –_

Lance's eyes snapped open, his lips puckered. He blinked at the ceiling, his ribs throbbing. A hissing noise came from the doorway as the door to his room slid open. Hunk entered, immediately breaking out into an amused grin at Lance's gobsmacked expression.

"Have a good dream?" Hunk asked, barely disguising his laughter as he waggled his eyebrows. Lance tensed, dropping his pout, and sat up with a small wince. He couldn't quite stop the glare in his friend's direction, but Hunk looked decidedly unimpressed, his grin only widening. "I'd say I'm sorry, but that wouldn't be the whole truth."

"Ugh, I hate you." Lance muttered, rubbing at his face. There was still a residual feeling of excitement left in his gut, despite the memory of his dream rapidly fading. He desperately tried to grasp at it but that only sped up the process until all he could remember was the hazy, fuzzy warm outline of…Keith. _What the fuck_. "What do you want?"

"I don't want anything but Shiro does. You better scoot, I bet he's still pissed about yesterday." Hunk noncommittally told him, inspecting his fingernails as he leaned on the doorway. Lance groaned, letting himself fall back into the bed and then hissed in pain. Hunk looked up at the sound, catching Lance's grimace before he could smooth his face into a more neutral expression. Hunk immediately dropped is casual attitude, coming over with a worried look in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?"

Lance managed to smile at him although it was very clearly forced.

"Y-yeah. Just got more than I bargained for yesterday, I guess."

Hunk frowned down at him, unconvinced. He squinted at Lance, eyes widening when he caught a glimpse of white peeking out the collar of his t-shirt. Lance hastily tugged at it to cover the bandage but it was too late.

"'More than you bargained for'?" Hunk echoed, disturbingly loud in the room. He very much looked like he was resisting to forcefully take a look at the damage Lance very clearly tried to hide from him. "How bad is it?"

Lance lifted his hands in a calming gesture, his grin a bit strained. No need to upset anyone needlessly, after all.

"It's fine, okay? It's all good, just gotta take it easy for a little while. Keith helped –" He clamped his mouth shut, internally wincing at the surprised disbelief on Hunk's face. No doubt the ribbing was about to start.

"Keith fixed you up?" Hunk asked, a little bit stunned. Well, he wasn't the only one. Lance nodded tiredly.

"Yeah. He just showed up here last night." he explained. It didn't feel quite real and the only reason that he knew it was, was because of the secure bandaging around his ribs. Now, if only he could remember what the actual dream involving Keith had been about…

"Huh. So, you two finally becoming friends?" Hunk sounded curious, so at least he was distracted or placated enough by Lance's treatment of his injuries to latch onto something else. Lance tried to remember last night, recalling telling Keith the truth behind getting into that bar fight, and promptly turned red. At least that bastard had been speechless afterwards, silently and efficiently wrapping Lance up before he left him alone. But still. "Oooh, did something happen between you two? You look red."

Dammit.

"No, nothing happened!" Lance protested a bit too vigorously, flailing a bit. Hunk obviously didn't buy it, a shit-eating grin making its way onto his face. Lance tried to look smug despite the heat on his cheeks and ears. "The only thing that _did_ happen was that I finally managed to get Mullet to shut up for once, ha!"

"Hm, I bet you did." Hunk sounded equally smug, his grin not dissipating at all. Lance didn't like that tone one bit. He was quickly beginning to feel like he was overheating, whether out of annoyance or something else, he couldn't say.

…and why did that feel so familiar?

The memory Keith being so incredibly close, close enough to count each eyelash, _to kiss_ , suddenly came into his head, there and gone before Lance could really comprehend it – but it was enough time for his eyes to widen comically and his mouth to open in slack shock.

"Oh my god!"

"What?! What?" Hunk asked, alarmed by the sudden exclamation. Lance buried his head in his pillow, hands mussing his already messy hair. He made a sound halfway between a moan and a sob. Hunk hesitated, then reached out to pat his back awkwardly. "There, there."

Lance turned his head so one eye could peek at him.

"I'm so fucked."

Hunk stared at him, then raised his eyebrows, mouth pulling into a mischievous grin. If Lance was being this dramatic, it couldn't be anything serious.

"Don't you mean, you want to –"

"No! Shut up!" Lance practically screeched, sitting up and clapping a hand over Hunk's mouth lightning fast. "Don't say it, I don't want to hear it!"

Hunk obediently remained silent but his eyebrows were dancing quite impressively above eyes that expressed his mirth. Lance narrowed his eyes at him.

"Nothing happened, okay? That dream means nothing!", he hissed, taking his hand off of Hunk's mouth. Hunk still said nothing, merely shrugged.

"Sure, whatever. Shiro's still looking for you, by the way."

"Shit!"

Hunk watched calmly as Lance jumped up and haphazardly threw on any clothes he could find that weren't too dirty, barely stopping by the bathroom to brush his teeth, before he sprinted out of the room. Hunk stood still for a few moments, glancing over at Lance's unmade bed.

"You know, I really didn't mean anything by it, but something tells me he had a dream about Keith." He told it thoughtfully, then shrugged and finally followed Lance out the door, albeit at a slower pace. He was about halfway to the dining hall when a grin broke out on his face, barely holding in his laughter. "Wait 'til Pidge hears about this."

\- O -

As much as Lance tried to stand to attention during Shiro's lecture, his thoughts kept drifting off to the dream he stubbornly wanted, or perhaps dreaded, to remember. There were bits and pieces flashing in and out of his mind, teasing him only to flit out of reach once he tried to examine anything a bit more closely. All he'd been able to decipher so far was Keith's presence, how (surprisingly) welcome, even anticipated, it was, nervous excitement and – heat. A lot of it.

Lance bit his lip, the sharp pain jolting him back to the present.

Shiro stared at him, eyes narrowed and jaw set in what very much looked like a glare. He was silent, and the longer Lance waited, the more he realised that Shiro was waiting for some kind of response. Lance blinked and then smiled uncertainly.

"I'm sorry and I'll never do it again?" he tried, slumping a bit when Shiro let out a small groan of exasperation. He passed a tired hand over his face.

"You weren't listening, were you?" he asked. Lance opened his mouth to answer but then stayed silent at the look Shiro sent him, realising it was a rhetorical question. Shiro sighed. "Look, I know what happened yesterday, alright? Keith told me."

At that, Lance began to panic. Told him what? That Lance had almost kissed Keith yesterday? That he'd had a dream about said almost-kiss, except that it had been Keith laying the moves on Lance?

Lance choked, the memory of his dream back in full clarity. He could remember every single detail. And it wasn't good. At all.

Meanwhile, Shiro shot him a puzzled look. Lance looked much more shocked and embarrassed than the situation warranted for. It was almost enough for Shiro to forget about the whole mess. Almost. He lay a hand on Lance's shoulder, squeezing it.

"I'm glad you two are starting to pull yourselves together, but you have to be more careful, alright? Next time, you might not be so lucky to escape without dire consequences." He told Lance, tone much calmer than before. There was even a touch of sympathy in there. "I understand you want to protect those who are important to you, but just wildly swinging your fists won't solve anything –"

"Who says that asshole is important to me?!" Lance burst out. He drew himself up, glaring at Shiro, who could only freeze in stunned silence. "I hate him! I don't like Keith at all, not one bit!"

Shiro blinked, quite overwhelmed by his violent response, and then narrowed his eyes at him. Tone cold enough to freeze an entire planet, he silenced Lance with a single sharp glare, "Then I suggest you start liking him, or do you want it to be your fault when the universe comes under Zarkon's complete control?"

Lance paled, looking so devastated that Shiro immediately felt guilty. He kept forgetting that all of them were so young, including himself, but that he was still the adult of the group, aside from Allura and Coran. Most of Voltron's chosen Paladins were teenagers, barely more than children in the grand scheme of things, and he wasn't much better. They were all inexperienced, and the only reason Shiro had a little bit more of an understanding of things was because of the failed Kerberos mission. And that wasn't anything he'd wish on his worst enemy, least of all the people who were rapidly becoming something akin to family to him.

"I'm sorry. That was out of line." Shiro broke the heavy silence between them, genuinely remorseful. Lance said nothing. "It won't be your fault, if anything, it would be on all of us. Zarkon is…incredibly powerful. And all we can do, is do the best we can. Be the best Paladins we can be. But that requires work, on all our parts. And you must do yours. You understand?"

Lance still didn't say anything but after what felt like an eternity, nodded mutely. Guilt weighed on Shiro's shoulders like a heavy cloak.

"Let's get you to breakfast and then you can do some training, alright? Spar with Keith later, maybe that will strengthen your bond with him."

Lance only nodded again, uncharacteristically silent as Shiro more or less herded him into the dining hall.

Somehow, he didn't think that _starting_ to like Keith was the problem. And what if Zarkon took over because Lance was too distracted by and panicking because of dreams about kissing Keith?

 _Help._


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: more character exploration/development than plot but more of that next chapter. Also, some Keith/Lance interaction

* * *

"Look, all I'm saying is that you should take it easy until either the healing pods are working again or you know exactly how badly you're hurt." Hunk tried to dissuade Lance from his path, easily keeping in step with him. Lance waved away his concern, speed unfaltering.

"I'm fine, alright? I wouldn't be out of bed if it was so bad I couldn't move." he said easily, rounding the corner. Hunk stepped in front of him, barring the way into the training room, and causing Lance to nearly bump into him. "Oh, come on!"

"No." Hunk stubbornly crossed his arms, staring back with furrowed eyebrows when Lance shot him a glare. "You're not allowed in there until that bandage comes off."

Neither broke eye contact for a few tense seconds before Lance smirked mischievously. One hand hovered at the hem of his shirt.

"So, you want a bandage striptease?" he asked, beginning to lift his shirt up a bit as he thumbed the waistband of his pants. One of Hunk's eyes twitched but he steadily kept his gaze on Lance's face. His smirk widened. He sensually rolled his hips, hooking a finger into the waistband. Then he gave it a minimal tug, starting to shimmy out of his pants in his best imagined stripper impression. Hunk looked like he was about to explode, growing redder with each passing moment. Lance's lower abs became visible first, drawing a finger up the centre of his torso, followed by an exposed hipbone -

"Uargh, stop!" Hunk turned around so fast Lance almost expected to hear something crack. He cackled, flitting past Hunk through the now unobstructed doorway of the training room. "What the – hey, come back!"

"Nope!" Lance popped the 'p', grabbing his bayard from the inside of his jacket and transforming it. "Start sequence!"

The Gladiator materialised just a few feet away from him and immediately began to swing at his head. Unprepared for the lack of distance, Lance yelped and jumped out of the way. He barely managed to avoid the lethal blow, accidentally dropping his bayard in the process.

He had scarcely recovered when he spotted a glint in his peripheral vision. Alarm bells ringing, he dropped to the ground and accidentally landed on his injured side, a pained yell stuck in his throat. His ribs felt like they were splitting apart, the pain radiating outward and flooding his whole body in intense waves. Lance was dimly aware that the Gladiator's weapon missed his head by only a hair's breadth; there was no sound but he could feel the wind generated by the force behind the move, a silent killer.

Everything seemed to slow down. Hunk was yelling but Lance couldn't make out what, the pain and adrenaline pumping through his veins turning every sound into indiscernible white noise in his ears as he fought to keep himself alive. The Gladiator paused for an impossibly long time as it lifted its weapon in slow motion, shiny metal brightly lit by the cold light of the ceiling lamps.

Then time resumed its normal speed, the next swing aiming for Lance's middle. Sounds came back into focus and the pain faded enough so he could react and roll away. The sword embedded itself in the ground less than a second later, but if Lance thought that could buy him some time, he was sorely mistaken. Instead of tugging at its weapon, the Gladiator pulled back a fist and socked him right in the jaw, causing his teeth to clack together painfully and re-open the split in his lip.

Lance's vision swam out of focus, completely helpless.

"End sequence! End sequence!" Hunk screeched from the side, halting the Gladiator mid-movement. It disappeared, leaving Lance breathing harshly on the floor and face pulled into a pained grimace. A few thundering footsteps later, Hunk kneeled beside him, helping him sit up.

" _I told you_ , this was stupid! That was dangerous! You could have _died_!" Hunk began to rant, tone bordering on hysteria. He started to pat Lance down without ceasing his reprimands but he could barely listen, Shiro's words ringing loud and clear in his head.

 _"All we can do, is do the best we can. Be the best Paladins we can be. But that requires work, on all our parts. And you must do yours."_

He knew he was far from the best fighter out of all of them despite his big talk about being better than Keith. Keith, who was better than him at pretty much everything, at flying, at hand to hand combat, at fulfilling the role of a Paladin.

It was always Keith.

Keith, who was abrasive and tolerable the best of times, and downright dangerous at the worst, Keith, who piloted the most volatile Lion there was and relied on instincts more than skill, seemingly having been born the perfect defender of the universe.

There was no way Lance could ever match up to that but he could _try_. And try he would, starting with training as much as possible. Except now, Lance couldn't even do that. Hell, he'd nearly died just now and that had barely been ten seconds of facing the Gladiator.

Lance's side throbbed in sharp pain as if to drive home his failure, a gasp escaping him as a hand came up to cover the spot. Hunk's hands fluttered uselessly, eyes widened in distress.

"Shit, _shit_ , Lance - !"

"I _knew_ something was going on."

Both looked up in surprise. Pidge stepped toward them from the entrance of the training room, face pinched as she held a clunky, rectangular device in her hands. Hunk gaped as her as she crouched down beside Lance, pressing a few buttons on the device in quick succession.

"What is that?" Hunk asked, leaning over to look at the small screen above the buttons. Lance scrunched up his face as he tried to read what was displayed on it upside down, green lines flashing. It looked old-fashioned but familiar, somehow.

"The closest thing on Earth like this would be a metal detector, I suppose. They have a ton of old technology here and since I'm helping with improving the castle, I thought I could install weapon detectors in the walls. I'm playing around with miniature prototypes and kind of just synced up a bunch of stuff. I'm working on coding it to recognise more modern weapon material and intruders, so heat detection. But…," Pidge paused, finger hovering above the buttons as she squinted at the screen. The screen gradually began changing colour, "…if I tweak it a little, it should turn into an x-ray."

"An x-ray?" Lance echoed, exchanging a clueless look with Hunk. "What do you need that for?"

Pidge looked like she was trying very hard not to roll her eyes.

"You're clearly hurt – don't even try to deny it, Lance, I saw you trying to stop Hunk from saying anything at breakfast and then that fight with the Gladiator – and the whole healing chamber is sealed off. You can't use a healing pod or even just the scan to see how badly you're injured. An old-fashioned x-ray machine can at least tell you whether you've broken anything." she explained, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her tone very clearly invited Lance to argue but there wasn't anything he could say.

Hunk, on other hand, looked so relieved that his grin might've split his face in two, had it been any wider.

"You're a genius, Pidge!" he gushed. He probably would have leaned over and crushed her in a hug if Lance hadn't been sitting between the two and in danger of being squashed.

"I know." she said smugly, pressing another button. "Okay. Lance, sit still now."

Lance obliged but not without grumbling even though he stopped soon enough. The pain from falling was still there, if not as strong, and even breathing shallowly, hurt. A few moments passed as Pidge examined the flickering screen. A grove formed between her eyebrows.

"Well," she began, sounding mildly annoyed, "if your ribs weren't fractured before, they definitely are now."

Hunk made a noise of distress.

"I told you -!"

"Yeah, I know!" Lance accidentally snapped, tone sharper than he intended. He regretted it right away, Hunk making a face like a kicked puppy. Even Pidge looked up in disapproval though really, when wasn't at least one person looking at Lance like that at all times? He tried to breathe in deeply, nearly flinching in pain at the process, and winced. "Sorry, buddy. I didn't mean -"

"No talking." Pidge interrupted his apology, now holding the metal box to his jaw. He narrowed his eyes at her, then glanced at Hunk, who gave a small nod and smile. "Your jaw's fine, luckily enough. You're just going to have a lot of swelling and a bit of a bruise."

She pocketed the device, standing up. Then she crossed her arms, glaring down at Lance so intently that he froze, shrinking beneath her gaze.

For someone so small she sure could make him feel tiny.

"I'm not going to tell you how _monumentally stupid_ of you it was to fight the Gladiator of all things when you're already so beat up. Hunk's already done that." she began, voice frosty. Lance considered pointing out she was contradicting herself, but then decided against it. Okay, so maybe he was hurting bad enough not to want to risk another punch. "So, I'll bypass that. Let's go, I'm pretty sure I saw some Altean medical supplies somewhere."

"Altean meds?" Lance got up, ignoring the pain as much as he could and gratefully hanging onto Hunk for support. "Exciting stuff. Think they'll get me high? Oh hey, do they go bad?"

Pidge rolled her eyes once again at the incessant blabber leaving Lance's mouth as the trio left the training room. She picked up Lance's dropped bayard on the way, exchanging a look with Hunk.

"Well, I'd say we're probably a bit too worried. As long as Lance is talking, it's a sign of good health." she muttered, tone annoyed but eyes relieved and a little bit fond. Lance didn't hear a thing, speculating out loud on what would happen if one ingested alien space mould. Hunk snorted at him, half in exasperation, as he tried to jostle him as little as possible.

"I don't know, why don't you find out?"

Their squabbling continued all the way to Pidge's room, Lance doing his best to appear as normal as possible, Hunk and Pidge pretending to listen to what he was saying while really, they didn't buy into Lance's casual tone at all. They knew Lance, knew that he blew the tiniest thing out of proportion, but as soon as there was really something to worry about, completely glossed it over.

Lance knew that they knew but that didn't stop him from trying to hide it all the same. And besides, at least it kept him occupied enough to ignore bigger problems.

 _"Do you want it to be your fault when the universe comes under Zarkon's complete control?"_

– O –

The mind was a fickle thing.

It didn't matter what Keith did; he couldn't get his discussion with Shiro out of his head. Or rather, it was what had gone unsaid that kept him awake, made him toss and turn restlessly even as exhaustion settled deep into his bones.

When was the last time he had managed to sleep through an entire night?

Eventually, he gave up and tossed his blankets aside. He sat up, rubbing at his face tiredly, and sighed.

 _"I thought he was your friend?"_

 _Friend_.

Why did his mind keep going back to that word? Surely, if Keith went up to Lance right this moment, he'd deny any such relationship between the two of them.

Something heavy but hollow, achy, settled into the centre of his chest at the thought. It was a strange sensation, making it difficult to breathe. Keith lay a hand against the spot, frowning at the feeling. He concentrated on breathing, how the air rushed into his lungs and filled them to their full capacity, before expelling it again. Nothing obstructed his breathing path, he noted absentmindedly, rubbing at his chest, but the heavy weight didn't disappear.

Was this disappointment? Because, even if Lance didn't think that way, Keith wanted to be friends? Maybe had thought of them as such all along, and wasn't prepared for the possibility that he'd gotten it completely wrong?

"Keith? Hey, you up?"

Keith's head snapped up, looking at the door in vague surprise, then intrigue. His hand fell into his lap, cold. That feeling twinged. What was Lance doing here?

He stood, getting up to open the door. It slid aside, admitting Lance, who strode inside without a moment's hesitation. Keith turned to follow him with his eyes, strangely defensive, as he took a look around.

"Huh. Looks the same as my room…somehow I was expecting something different." he commented. Keith snorted, closing the door.

"Why? It's a spaceship. Everything here was built for functionality, not looks." He paused, looking at Lance a bit more closely. Lance defiantly stared back.

"What?" he asked, somewhere between wary and petulant. Keith moved a bit closer, reaching out to touch his face. Lance didn't move, seemingly petrified, but Keith noticed how he tensed up. He dropped his hand to his side instead.

"Your eye. It's looking a lot better."

"Oh." Lance sounded relieved and just a little bit disappointed. What a strange combination, Keith mused. "Yeah, Hunk and Pidge found out about, you know," he gestured at his ribs. He flinched, a movement that didn't escape Keith's attention. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, "and they found some Altean meds. Some of it was a lotion, like the one you gave me."

At that, Lance's tan skin took on a pink undertone though Keith couldn't for the life of him think of why. He raised his eyebrows, interest piqued.

"The Altean lotion got rid of your bruising?" Again, Keith reached out to touch Lance's eye, genuinely curious. His touch was light, barely a touch at all, but it was enough to feel that the bruised skin around Lance's eye wasn't heated anymore nor swollen. All that remained was some barely there discolouration. "That's amazing. What about your ribs?"

"Ah." Lance averted his eyes, appearing slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah, we applied it there too but, uh, I may have done. Something."

He fidgeted under Keith's gaze. He had a feeling his suspicions were about to be confirmed.

"Was it something stupid?" he asked exasperated, unfazed when Lance bristled.

"No! Well, maybe. Okay, yes." Lance relented, then drew himself up to his full height. He looked down at Keith from the maximum of two inches he had on him, "I'll have you know, my intentions were pure and for the good of this team –"

"What did you do?" Keith interrupted him, glancing down at Lance's ribs. Maybe he should just take a look for himself.

"What – oh, okay. Dude, is this gonna be a thing from now on, because you know, bros being bros and all, but this is, like, the second time in two days you're trying to take my clothes off and it's getting kinda weird –" Keith ignored Lance's babbling, rolling up his shirt. His lips thinned at the sight that greeted him. More bandaging and some thick padding. The only good thing was that there was no blood.

"What did you do?" he repeated himself, a nameless emotion stirring in his gut. Lance stilled beneath his hands, breathing shallow. If Keith was right, breathing probably hurt.

"I, um, may or may not have tried to fight the Gladiator." he admitted. Keith dropped the shirt, letting it cover the injury once again. He looked up at Lance, annoyed and, he was a bit startled to realise, worried.

"Are you stupid?"

Usually, the question would have sounded condescending, sharp, but lack of sleep made some of his worry came through, softening his voice at the edges. Lance didn't seem to like it any better though.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" he muttered, more to himself than Keith, but annoyed nonetheless. "No, thank you for asking, I'm not. I was just trying to –" He suddenly cut himself off, face stiffening. Keith found himself unable to look away. It was one of the most serious expressions he'd ever seen Lance wear. It wasn't normal, not for him, to look so grim and even…a little bit broken.

Keith didn't like it, and that alone was a thought he'd never imagined would cross his mind.

"How bad is it?" he asked, not wanting to dwell on whether he liked how Lance looked or not. "Your ribs."

"Ah! Um, yeah, uh. They're. Fractured."

Keith closed his eyes, resigned. Called it. He opened them again, about to reprimand Lance for being so careless, but then found himself unable to say anything. Lance's gaze was directed the ground, lip absentmindedly between his teeth.

"Stop that. It's not going to heal if you keep chewing on it." he told him, more annoyed than he should be. Lance looked up, surprised, and - for once - did as he was told. His lower lip was now shiny, a little bit red, but no worse for the wear except for the healing split. Keith couldn't quite look away, something about it captivating him. Lance cleared his throat, an awkward sound, and Keith quickly averted his eyes, tips of his ears flushing.

 _What the hell was that?_

Silence descended between them, that strange kind of silence where you don't know whether to fill or let it be, because it wasn't comfortable, but not dangerous either. It stood between them, gaining solidity, until Keith registered some minimal shuffling on Lance's part.

"So," he began. Lance looked up at him, half in relief, half in anticipation. Like that, some of that hopeful kind of light that was purely Lance was back, and Keith's heart jumped, "why are you here?"

Lance blinked and he straightened up – overly careful, Keith noted – as he finally seemed to remember why he'd come here in the first place.

"That's right! Yeah, so Shiro," Lance's voice wavered a tiny bit, almost hesitant, "suggested we should train together more. Team bonding, y'know."

"Hm." Keith made a noncommittal noise. He wasn't opposed to the idea, despite leaning toward solo training, but not when Lance was this bad. He barely seemed to be able to walk in this state.

"Don't you 'hm' me! I'm perfectly capable of kicking your butt, even like this. C'mon, take a swing at me, I dare you –" Lance tried to shift into one of his ridiculous fighting stances, then stopped halfway, flinching. "Fu – okay, just let me catch my breath."

Keith hadn't moved a single inch, staring at him dubiously.

"Like I'd fight you like this." He deadpanned, then continued before Lance could speak, as offended as he looked "If you really want to train, there are other ways of doing it. How about we try that mind-meld again?"

Keith didn't necessarily like volunteering baring his soul, but he didn't make much of an effort to hide much either. It was just that no one had ever really bothered to ask and, maybe if he was being truthful to himself, he kind of liked it that way. But if it would keep Lance from doing more stupid stuff? That was fine with him. After all, the team needed him.

 _And maybe I do, too._

Keith coughed, looking away. He barely heard Lance's agreement, too surprised and confused by where that thought had come from. Since when did he need Lance?

 _Friends._

Maybe that was why. Because friends needed, and relied on, each other. Keith felt his stomach plummet, that hollow feeling in his chest back. _If_ they were friends, that is.

They started toward the training deck, Lance uncharacteristically silent except for his laboured breathing. Keith side-eyed him, worry resurfacing.

"You know, if you're having trouble breathing, you shouldn't be walking around, let alone train."

Lance only shook his head, jaw set. Keith's heart sank; he didn't like that look. And he didn't like that that look could make him stand to attention like this, make him so overly worried. About _Lance_.

"No. I have to – become better." Lance replied, words squeezed out from between his teeth, as he breathed quick and shallow. Keith slowed down, shortening his strides.

"At least walk slower, then." he said, tone breaching no argument. Lance looked like he was about to start one anyway, but then didn't.

"Can't keep up with my long legs, hm? Fine, I'll be a gentleman and slow down for you."

Keith rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. At least the idiot was breathing a bit easier now, even if they were walking at a snail's pace. It became quiet between the two of them again, but it felt calm and almost companionable. Keith's thoughts drifted to before, mind just a little bit sluggish, but it felt more urgent now. Like his thoughts were caught on his tongue, fully formed words just waiting to burst out and held back only by his own uncharacteristic hesitation.

"Lance?" he finally asked, slowing as the training deck came into view. Lance glanced at him. If he was surprised at his tentative tone, he didn't show it.

"Yeah?"

"Are we – are we friends?"

* * *

I did think about adding on another scene but

come yell at me over tumblr on my main ( .com) or my voltron side blog ( .com) :DD


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Warning - bullying/blood mention (if you want to skip, stop reading at _'you look weird'_ and start again at _'Keith stop!'_ ). Some hinting at kinky Lance (pls don't judge me, I s2g the characters write themselves, I've little control over them) and he also reads a bit OOC at the end bc he's high on meds and um. Yeah. Sorry, I tried

* * *

Lance wasn't exactly sure how to answer that question. Normally, he would have hurled some dramatic denial at Keith, _no, of course not, they were rivals, and rivals can't be friends_ , but the remark didn't want to come out. He wasn't even consciously trying to hold himself back, because, he realised, Keith sounded different.

Vulnerable, instead of tough, open, instead of abrasive. Raw, and even a bit…scared.

And Lance, well. Something deep inside him rebelled at hearing that tone from Keith, of all people. He didn't like it. It was so unlike Keith, and Lance had to admit that he felt safe with that weird, bicker-filled middle ground they had found between them. But this?

This wasn't bickering. This wasn't safe.

This was honesty asking for honesty, with a good dose of Feelings and Emotions thrown in. This was Keith, calculative and, at times, cold, who always gave it all or nothing, who never hesitated.

Except now he was.

It was enough to throw Lance off balance, off the course he had established to take with Keith, like a comet pulled from orbit.

That easy smile Lance always had on hand disappeared, along with that well-tread path. He coughed, looking away from Keith's still gaze on him.

"I…yeah, sure. We're friends." he told him. He mentally patted himself on the back for sounding as stable as he did. Lance glanced back at him, and almost swallowed his tongue. Keith was smiling. _Actually_ smiling, not smirking, not mean, or gleeful. It was soft, wondrous, and _happy_. Something in Lance's lower stomach region fluttered, _oh shit_ , and he coughed again to cover up his shock.

As if to remind him of their existence, his ribs throbbed sharply, and he sucked in a pained breath which unfortunately just made it worse. He leaned against the corridor wall heavily, clutching his bad side. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up, bravely attempting a grin. It probably looked more like a grimace.

"'s okay. 'm fine." he tried to tell Keith, but it was already difficult enough to breathe regularly without pain, so he wasn't sure how much of what he had said was clear. Either way, it didn't look like Keith was buying it. He was frowning – was he actually worried? About Lance?

He tried to ignore how that made the fluttering reappear. He was not a stupid damsel in distress, goddammit, even if this was kind of ga –

"No, you're not. Lean on me, I'm taking you back to your room." Keith didn't even wait for a reply, slinging Lance's arm over his shoulder and effectively short-circuiting his brain once more. All thoughts and impending Gay Crisis Panic turned to static at the feeling of being pressed up to Keith along his whole side. His face was so close, they were practically cheek to cheek, and his arm was loosely laid around Lance's waist, warm and solid. _God help me_. "I don't even know why I went along with this in the first place, you should be resting – "

"No."

Keith stopped, disapproval clear in the set of his mouth. Lance held his gaze, determined not to give this opportunity up so easily.

"Don't be stupid."

"Sorry, you know me." Lance replied breezily, choosing to ignore the sting of irritation at that. Even he could admit that his choices lately hadn't been the best, but he was still afraid, and maybe he always would be, of not being good enough. It was driving him insane, to feel this way and not doing anything about it - he _needed_ to know he was capable of fighting against that fear, of overcoming it. His first attempt had ended in failure but he refused to stay down. He had to try again.

Except he now had a problem blocking his way, and it was glowering right at him from unfairly pretty eyes.

 _You did_ not _just think of Keith as pretty._

"If you really think I'm going to let you do anything except lie down in bed and not move, you are even dumber than you look." Keith adjusted his grip on Lance, tightening his arm around his waist. The action made Lance's annoyance with his retort disappear in a puff of smoke, made him reel instead, because, _wow_ , he hadn't known Keith actually had that much strength, that was kind of impressive and hot –

 _Oh my god, stop being so -_

"Come on." Lance coaxed him, hoping he didn't sound as breathless as he felt. Maybe he could just blame it on his ribs. Yeah. That was it. Totally. "Just half an hour. Half an hour of mind meldy training, and then I'll do whatever you tell me to."

Keith's eyes glittered and Lance suddenly wished he could take it back. Why didn't he ever _think_ before he opened his mouth?

"Really?" Keith asked, something lurking beneath his innocent tone. Lance gulped, hastily trying to backtrack. If given the chance, who knew what horrible things this guy could come up with?

"Uh, well, y'know, no weird shit -", he started, brain filling up with a variety of torture instruments before imaginary shackles turned into silken ropes tied around wrists, cold ground underneath him to soft sheets and frantic eyes became covered by a blindfold. A familiar smirk was on the torturer's face but instead of fear it sent a thrill of anticipation through him. Lance's mind screeched to a halt, flashing red and blue in alarm while he tried not to turn crimson or blow steam out of his ears. _Oh, sweet quiznak._

"Promise?" Keith's voice interrupted the chaos Lance's thoughts had descended into, and he looked up in a daze. Keith was pinning him with his eyes, deep and dark, serious. Lance's knees went weak.

"W-what?"

Keith huffed in annoyance.

"Promise you'll do whatever I tell you to do?"

Oh no. This would _not_ end well. Lance shook his head, a tad too desperately.

"No, no, not _whatever_ you _-_ " he protested, but Keith cut him off.

"Then we're not training."

He more or less began to drag Lance back to his room. Lance panicked, feeling his fear strike out.

"Okay, wait! Half an hour of training and anything you say!", he swallowed, "I promise."

He should probably start praying now. That is, if some universal, intergalactic god existed and could actually hear him.

Keith paused. He searched Lance's eyes, seemingly satisfied with what he found, and nodded. He smiled again and Lance's head spun.

 _Save me._

"Deal."

– O –

Keith watched Lance through half-lidded eyes, waiting for Blue's projection to stop flickering and meet Red's. Lance's eyes were closed but he was frowning in concentration, twitching occasionally. His eyebrows drew together and Blue disappeared. Keith held back a sigh.

"Come on, Lance. This was your idea." he broke the silence, a little bit bored. Lance opened his eyes, glaring at him.

"I'm gathering my energy." he told him, annoyed. He straightened his back, closing his eyes again as he lifted his chin. "I need _peace_ and _quiet_."

"It's been _peaceful_ and _quiet_ since we got here." Keith protested, trying to keep calm. Lance huffed through his nose. "Just get a move on."

That seemed to get a reaction out of Lance, who stiffened in response to Keith's offhanded comment.

"Ugh, can you stop? I'm really trying, alright!" Lance's voice rose, a very slight tremor in it. Keith could only stare, taking in the way Lance's shoulders had pulled up and his hands on his knees were balled into fists. When he looked closer, he could even see how they were shaking with how forcefully he was squeezing them. Keith's annoyance faded into something akin to sympathy.

"Lance, just – um, okay, wait. Open your eyes."

Lance cautiously did as he was told, gaze narrowed in suspicion.

"What?" he asked, still defensive. Keith could feel himself rise to it but pushed it down. This wasn't the time, nor would it help with training.

"Concentrate on breathing. Do it with me." Keith breathed in deeply through his nose and then out his mouth. "Come on. In and out."

Lance said nothing but he didn't move to do anything either. He just kept staring at him, eyes pinched. Keith sighed again.

"Relax your shoulders." he said, concentrating on sounding calm as he reached out a hand to lay on Lance's shoulder. Lance immediately went rigid beneath his touch. "Breathe."

Lance's stiffness didn't go away immediately but Keith kept smiling encouragingly, even when it started to feel silly and forced. He kept his eyes on Lance's face, each breath adding calm and each exhalation expelling a bit of tension. Soon, all of it had drained away but their gazes stayed connected, unwavering and still, completely different from their usual interactions.

On some level, Keith was aware that he was staring, but he couldn't help it. There were hidden depths in Lance's eyes, like a whirl pool at the bottom of the ocean, and it drew him in, wanting to uncover what he hadn't seen before.

Keith had never noticed how blue Lance's eyes were.

"What now?" Lance asked, voice softer and calmer than usual. His full attention was focused on Keith and he had to admit it was a little disconcerting, to see an energetic force such as Lance so eerily motionless and quiet. Keith blinked, face colouring a little pink at realising how close they were, how warm Lance was. His shoulder rose and fell beneath his hand in time with his even breathing.

"Patience." Keith managed, just as soft and maybe a little croaky. "Patience yields focus. Let your mind wander. Let it find Blue's."

Lance's mouth twitched at the corners, almost like he suspected whose words Keith had just borrowed, but he didn't comment. Instead, he let his eyes fall shut, continuing to breathe in a regular rhythm. Keith didn't follow his example right away, instead watching him for a bit.

It was strange, how tranquil he himself felt, seeing as he was currently with Lance. As much as they riled each other up, and as much as Lance usually instigated their squabbles, it was such a different experience to see how they could have the opposite effect on each other as well. Lance's energy, usually focused outward and spilling everywhere was calm, contained, and flowing in one direction while the constant highs and lows of Keith's own emotions were mellowed out and simmered down.

Keith didn't even notice when his own eyes closed, his hand lingering upon Lance's shoulder. Both Blue and Red's projections floated towards one another, meeting halfway, and then merged.

" _You look weird."_

 _Stiffening shoulders, clenched fists. Silence._ Say nothing and they'll leave you alone _. A hard jab in his side, ignored. A harder shove to his shoulder, and he falls off the chair._

" _You have a boy's name but you look like a girl."_

" _I'm not a girl!"_

" _Prove it."_

 _Pulling at hair, at clothes. Fear. Scratching a face with nails, pained howling._

" _You'll pay for that, pretty boy!"_

 _A hard punch in his stomach takes his breath away, another at his face makes everything go black._

…

" _Oh, honey."_

 _Shaking beneath soft, careful hands. Trembling lip, hot, moist eyes. Defiant, rough wiping away of falling tears._

" _What happened?"_

 _Silence. A sigh. A cool touch to his cheek, a soft kiss on his forehead. Closed eyes to hide more tears, more painful than a black eye or the blue littering his middle._

" _Did you fight back?"_

" _I tried."_

 _A pause. Bandaids. A warm embrace. Small fingers, clutching at strong shoulders._

" _I'm so sorry. But I'm proud of you, you hear me?"_

 _A soothing warmth, other than the hug enveloping him safely. An almost smile. It hurts._

" _So proud. I love you so much. Stay strong."_

…

 _A rough push sent him to the ground, scraping his hands as he broke his fall. It burned. A pair of hands made a grab for his jacket; he scrabbled backwards, getting to his feet._

" _That's mine!"_

" _It's ugly. Why do you wear it?"_

 _Red, so much red. On his hands and on the jacket._

" _It was my mother's."_

 _Laughter, jeering._

" _You're wearing a_ girl's _jacket? Are you a giiirl?"_

 _More pulling, more shoving, more falling. His knees scraped raw, bleeding through the ripped material of his pants._

" _Stop it!"_

" _Do you wanna be a girl?"_

 _Red-hot rage, fire dragon's breath._

" _I said, stop it!"_

 _A hard punch, cracking, aching knuckles, but the fire only grows. Another. More red, more split skin. Red-hot pain everywhere, on his hands, his knees, gaping in his chest._

" _Keith, stop!"_

Keith's eyes snapped open, concentration broken. His heart hammered away in his chest, his breathing erratic.

That was enough.

"That's half an hour. We're done." he announced loudly, getting up. His whole body was tense, ready to run. Keith absentmindedly pulled his sleeves over his shaking fingers, clutching the fabric.

Lance looked up at him in betrayal, pouting.

"I almost had it! C'mon, just five more minutes –" he begged but Keith was having none of it. He'd already shown him more than he had intended to and the time they had agreed on was up. The alarm he had conveniently set on his watch beforehand was still blaring away. He shut it off.

"No. Half an hour is what you said, half an hour is what you get. Now do what I tell you to do, and go rest." Keith was glad his voice was stable even with his mind in such a state of turmoil. He met Lance's glare with as calm a gaze as he could manage. He was still breathing too fast and he was quivering all over, like an internal earthquake.

Lance said nothing, his mouth open as if to protest. He closed it again, nodding once. Maybe he was more observant than anyone gave him credit for.

"Fine." was all Lance said. Keith kept his surprise at the quiet compliance hidden. He watched Lance struggle to get up for a few moments, his breathing becoming uneven and pained, until Keith couldn't stand it anymore and held out his hand. Surprise flitted across Lance's face before he smiled at him gratefully and took it. Keith's heart jumped, Lance's hand lay warm in his, and he pulled him up carefully. "Thanks."

Keith only nodded once, face once again a faint pink. His shaking was fading, his breathing slowing down.

"Let's get going. You need to get to bed." he said, once again slinging Lance's arm over his shoulder. Lance's breath was at his ear as he laughed quietly. It felt intimate somehow, but Keith found he liked it that way. It was strangely soothing after the jarring experience of visiting memories he'd rather forget. Lance's laugh, a private one like this instead of the obnoxious braying he did like when he pranked someone, was nice.

"Hm, you know, if that's your way of asking me out on a date –" Lance started teasingly, and the moment was gone. Keith rolled his eyes.

"Shut up and get moving."

Surprisingly, Lance did. They walked in companionable silence for a little while until he was predictably the one to break it.

"You know, I would've gone to my room even without that promise." Lance grumbled, limping along Keith's side. He raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Really."

Lance bristled; Keith had to suppress a smile, quite relieved that Lance was apparently feeling well enough to pull expressions outside of painful grimacing.

"I keep my promises, okay? I'm a noble sort of guy."

"Then I'll just keep that promise for later."

Lance blanched and Keith had to grin.

"Jerk."

Keith only snorted, then fell silent.

"Hey." Lance started after a short pause, voice soft and even a little hesitant. Keith frowned, unused to that tone. He could only remember having it heard once, when all five of them had been assembled in the Blue Lion at the very beginning and Lance had turned to Shiro to take the lead.

"Hm?"

"Those people, in your memories – " Keith suddenly felt cold, Lance's voice sounding as if from far away. This had been a bad idea after all. " – is that why you know how to use all those medical supplies? Why you had a kit from Earth and not an Altean one?"

Arguably, Keith could have just told him that he'd had no idea that there were Altean medical kits on the castle-ship, let alone _where_ they were, and left it at that, but that still would have left the question open of why he had one from Earth and knew how to use it. He was almost sure that Lance would just keep digging until his curiosity was satisfied anyway, if he didn't answer now.

"Yes." He gave a short reply, not wanting to go into the details. Lance had already seen enough to give context, he didn't need more explanation, nor was Keith in a mood to give it to him. "That's why. I keep some stuff on me at all times."

Lance didn't say anything to that and that alone was enough to startle Keith. Normally, it was difficult to get him to shut up, so for him to do so voluntarily…

"I'm sorry."

Keith blinked and glanced at him from the side. Lance's face was earnest, eyes trained on him.

"For what?"

"That that kind of stuff happened to you." Lance pressed his lips together. Keith said nothing, internally reeling that Lance was actually sensitive enough to be like this. That he cared enough to feel that way. Something inside his chest tugged, not painfully, but there nonetheless. It felt warm, comforting.

Was this what it was like? To have friends, someone who cared outside of family?

"It's not important. It's in the past." Keith finally said, voice just a little bit gruff. It felt a bit strange to be talking about these things with Lance of all people, but he couldn't deny that it didn't necessarily feel bad. Just, strange. Lance sniffled, catching Keith's attention. His eyes widened in alarm.

"What's wrong? Does anything hurt?" he asked, sounding just a bit too frantic. He stopped walking, about to try and examine whether Lance had somehow managed to hurt himself even more, when he shook his head.

"No, I'm okay. I just – " he broke off, looking at Keith. His eyes looked moist, already setting off alarm bells in him. "You were such a small kid and you looked so frail - I mean, you're all grown up now and stuff – but you really didn't deserve that…no one does…" Lance trailed off, staring at a bit of wall forlornly, and leaving Keith at a loss of what to reply. He opened his mouth, still not really sure what to say, but Lance beat him to it, "I can't even imagine what it's like to have gone through that without your parents."

Keith's throat closed up, eyes suddenly warming. He swallowed heavily. Lance was staring at him again, a strange mix of empathy and sadness in his eyes. Pity. Anger pierced through this weird mush of emotions clogging up his throat.

"Forget about it."

"Keith –"

"I said, forget about it!" he almost bellowed, ignoring the sting of regret he could feel when Lance's expression turned to hurt anger. He opened his mouth to retort -

"Keith?""

They both turned at being called, coming face to face with Pidge and Shiro. They stared at the two of them, Pidge frowning when she saw Lance.

"Why are _you_ out of bed?" she asked, walking towards them with Shiro right behind her. She shot Keith a disapproving look who straightened up indignantly.

"It was his idea!" he denied any fault, despite guiltily remembering his agreement to training with Lance. Shiro looked between the two of them, a pensive look on his face.

"I promise, we didn't fight – ", Lance started, inching behind Keith. Pidge glared at him, putting her hands on her hips.

"I _don't care_ , point is you're supposed to be resting."

"I was about to bring him back to his room." Keith helpfully pointed out, shrinking when Pidge turned her glare on him.

"Don't think I believe this is all Lance's fault." she hissed, looking back at Lance. "What were you doing, anyway?"

"Mind-meld training!" Lance grinned, but it faded as fast as it had come. His expression turned thoughtful and sad, glancing over at Keith. He set his jaw, studiously ignoring his gaze. Pidge groaned.

"Okay, fine, so that's better than fighting _the Gladiator with broken ribs_ –" she started, but was interrupted by Shiro before she could go on.

"Lance has broken ribs? Since when?" he asked, aghast. He looked up at Lance who was conveniently occupied with admiring a piece of wall. "You fought the Gladiator like that?"

"His ribs got hurt during that bar fight yesterday and then he decided it was a good idea to try and train with the Gladiator this morning." Pidge readily explained, tone clearly expressing just how disapproving she was of Lance's actions. "So Hunk and I fixed him up with some Altean medicine I found." She paused. "Speaking of which, I don't know how you even managed to get this far, the stuff I gave you should have knocked you out for the next 24 hours."

Shiro had listened to Pidge intently, eyes widening during her narration of events. Keith thought he saw a shadow fall across his face, guilt behind the worry he now openly displayed. It piqued his interest, making him wonder just what exactly was going on that Shiro seemed to feel guilty enough about Lance's state of health that he was trying to hide it. Shiro cleared his throat, gaze sliding back to Lance.

"I may have only taken half the dosage you gave me." he was admitting to Pidge, smiling sheepishly. Keith rolled his eyes. "But since I'm kinda getting tired now, I'll just –"

"Keith, can you make sure this idiot makes it to his room in one piece." Pidge interrupted him flatly, fixing him with a glare. "I'm going to get more meds."

She left without waiting for an answer, leaving Shiro with the two of them. Shiro crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at them and how they were still holding on to each other.

"Need help?"

"I can walk by myself!" Lance insisted, wrenching himself away from Keith's hold. He felt strangely cold and empty, almost hurt at the action which felt too much like rejection. "See?"

Lance wobbled forward, jaw clenched and one hand clutching his bad side. He managed a grand total of five steps before he had to lean against a wall, panting heavily with a pained grimace.

"I really doubt you can." Keith said drily, once again stepping up to put one of Lance's arms over his shoulder. Shiro came up to his other side, silencing any protest Lance may have voiced with one stern look.

Lance sighed, a flash of pain on his face.

"Fine."

The three of them made swift, surprisingly quiet progress, and once they arrived at Lance's room and met Pidge, it was even more of a surprised when Lance took the medication without complaint. Keith couldn't help but find that worrisome; Lance must have been in a lot more pain that he let on.

Lance was gone as soon as he downed the pills, snoring away peacefully. Keith was glad to see it too; even if he would never say it out loud, especially not to Lance, he was relieved to note that his breath sounded normal and even, relaxed like his face as he slept, without that underlying expression of pain Keith had seen during the mind-meld and just before.

His gaze slid over to Shiro, who had insisted on keeping watch over Lance as he slept when both Pidge and Keith made to leave.

"Just in case." he had said, an assuring smile on his face. He avoided Keith's gaze even now; they could both read each other too well for him not to recognise how tense Shiro was.

But why?

Keith didn't want to ask, not with Pidge in the room. Who knew if Shiro would tell him, even if he was by himself?

"I'll come back later." he said quietly, keeping his eyes on Shiro. Both him and Pidge looked up at that, open surprise on both their faces. They exchanged a baffled glance. Keith felt the back of his neck warm. "What?"

"Nothing, just. You don't usually show this much caring." Shiro said slowly, finally looking at Keith properly. His eyes were narrowed, as if he was assessing, analysing him. "Not for Lance, anyway."

"Hey now, Keith 'cradled him in his arms'." Pidge threw in, unable to suppress a bubble of laughter at the dirty look Keith sent her. Even Shiro was smiling a bit, and that almost made Keith forgive Pidge. Almost.

"I'm leaving." he announced, face becoming redder by the second. Was he really that bad at being a friend?

 _We're friends._

Keith couldn't help smiling at remembering Lance's earlier confirmation and how relieved he'd been to hear it.

"Aw, you're blushing –"

"No, I'm not!"

"You totally are."

Pidge giggled until Shiro gently shushed both of them, gesturing at peacefully sleeping Lance. Keith smiled at Shiro gratefully who shrugged, a sly smile on his lips.

"Pidge is right though. Careful, you'll make your jacket jealous."

Pidge burst out laughing again, quickly muffling herself as Keith promptly left, still red. She followed soon after, leaving Shiro alone with Lance. He dropped his gentle smile, staring down at Lance and really looked at him. Lance was paler than normal but otherwise fine...he would have to ask to have a look at his ribs later.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" he whispered, eyebrows drawn together and mouth lined with worry. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Don't take what I said so seriously."

But even as he said it, he felt more weight being added to his sense of responsibility.

\- O -

"Is that him?"

Face pinched in concentration, then a decisive nod.

"Yes."

A low rumble, something between a growl and something completely _other_.

"Find him and bring him to me."

* * *

1\. I feel like I lost a bit of steam with this one, so I apologise if this reads super boring or dry. Next chapter should be more interesting T-T  
2\. Yes, I totally used a 'Wicked' reference


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: to be edited

* * *

When Lance awoke, he was alone.

It wasn't that he particularly minded; they had been in space for long enough that he had been forced to accept this reality as his new normal, that when he referred to this as 'his room' it really meant 'his room', and not 'the room any of his siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles and anyone else can burst into unannounced'.

It had been a while since he'd been home anyway, even before the whole Voltron-gig started, what with the Garrison being a boarding school. That didn't mean Lance didn't miss his home life though.

The last time he'd been home was on school break but, even if he had to admit that it was a nice change not to have to share his room with more than one person, it was a completely different experience to have so much _life_ in such a small space. An experience he sorely missed.

And now, Lance had a whole room to himself. No one entered unless he wanted them to which could be both a blessing and a curse.

In the beginning, he had somewhat irrationally harboured the unconscious hope that people would still simply barge in whenever. Needless to say, it was a lot easier to meet that expectation when he wasn't on a gigantic castle-spaceship and there were more than six people, apart from, him around. Here, unlike home or the Garrison, it was possible to just wander for hours, possibly even days, without ever encountering anyone.

(This, Lance knew from personal experience, having been bored enough between training, sleeping hours and saving the universe in general, to just start walking and see where he would end up. He found tonnes of rooms with old tech, other rooms that were full of _stuff_ that just stood around collecting space dust and even some that were completely empty, but somehow still managed to send out menacing vibes. Suffice to say, all of it was devoid of life and Lance wasn't quite suicidal enough to try touching anything he didn't know what the effects would be.)

(He once tried to play around with some interesting looking _thing_ that looked like a children's carousel with spikes.)

(It did not end well.)

Lance knew he wasn't alone, no matter how often it felt like it, but he did the feel the closest thing to _lonely_ he'd ever had.

Loneliness.

It reminded him of the mindmeld with Keith yesterday...that had been the dominating factor in the majority of his memories, and if Lance thought about it, that little shack he'd lived in before Voltron had literally screamed it.

That, and the rest of what Lance had seen, put things into perspective a little bit, like how Keith could be distant and standoffish, especially in the beginning. How he took a long time to really open up, or rarely let his guard down completely. He really needed to laugh more, Lance thought.

Of course, Keith's social incompetence could also lead to totally missing social cues. It was usually something that was puzzling or even funny, but having practically been inside Keith's head made it seem a lot less to be something to laugh about.

...That _had_ to be the meds talking. It was _hilarious_ how clueless Keith was, even if the reasons for it weren't.

 _And maybe he's just a little bit cute when he's like that too._

Lance closed his eyes.

Why was he thinking about him so much, and then thoughts like _that,_ at that? This was getting out of hand.

While he was trying to get a hold of himself and his increasingly panicking/swooning thoughts about a certain mullet-wearing individual, faint footsteps approached his room. As a result, Lance, trying to push away any somewhat gooey feelings he got during this process, completely failed to notice when Shiro entered.

"You're awake."

The statement was accompanied by open relief, worry and a trace of amusement at seeing Lance slapping himself repeatedly.

It also scared the crap out of him. Lance yelped, sitting up with wide eyes, and then flinched as his ribs protested the sudden movement. Shiro regarded him from the doorway, a tray of food in his hands. Lance blinked. There was a pause during which neither knew what to say. Then -

"Is that breakfast?" Lance asked, a bit bewildered by why Shiro was bringing food to his room (whether it was meant for him or not wasn't something he straight out wanted to ask). Shiro nodded, closing the door behind him with a bump of his hip to the exit button, and set the tray down on the desk in the corner.

"You're supposed to be moving as little as possible until you heal, so I got you some while you were sleeping."

Well, that solved the question of who it was for. He pulled up a chair next to the bed, then sat back with crossed arms as he kept looking at Lance, who tried not to feel too much like he was being silently reprimanded. He cleared his throat, gaze sliding sideways to the green food goo peeking out the top of the food bowl.

"I can walk -", he started, more or less expecting it when Shiro frowned at him and shook his head decisively.

"Maybe if you hadn't _fought the Gladiator_ when you were already hurt, but not now. You barely managed to get to your room yesterday." Shiro sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Honestly, what were you thinking?"

It was amazing how, even when his family wasn't with him, Lance still managed to get stuck with a lecture on wrong behaviour. He couldn't deny a prick of guilt but he mostly felt annoyed at this point. He knew it had been stupid of him, heard it enough times and was in enough pain to assure him of that. But -

"I don't want to be the reason we lose!", Lance burst out. It was the thought at the forefront of his mind, the lid that kept all other of his insecurities under lock and key, but now it was off and everything was bubbling out of him at the speed of the Blue Lion through that first wormhole. "I - I know I'm not a genius like Pidge, or good at tech like Hunk, or -," he clenched his fists by his side, hating to admit to this, _hating it so much,_ " - or as _amazing_ as Keith at piloting and fighting. I know I talk a big game but I - I just don't want to be a failure."

He trailed off at the end, staring down at his blankets and his heart beating too fast in the face of what he hadn't admitted to himself or out loud before.

Honesty just had to bite you in the butt the worst of times, didn't it?

"Lance."

He hunched his shoulders unconsciously, not wanting to look Shiro in the eye. He couldn't believe he'd just said all that, how embarrassing that was, how _weak_ it made him look, and worst of all, how weak it _actually made_ him.

"Lance, look at me."

Lance shook his head, nails digging into the palms of his hands. Shiro sighed.

"This is because of what I said, isn't it?" he asked. His tone clearly expressed his guilt, so much that Lance involuntarily flicked his eyes upward. He still said nothing but that small reaction must have confirmed what Shiro was thinking. He held his gaze steadily, eyebrows drawn together and mouth turned downward in obvious regret. "You're not a failure, Lance. If anyone failed, it was me." He paused as if to gather himself and then continued with a slight tremor in his voice, "At Kerberos, I failed to protect my crew. I did what I could, but it wasn't enough. I - I left them behind, and I can't even remember where they were sent. But I didn't just lose my comrades - I cost Pidge her family."

Shiro broke off, a look in his eyes as if he was far away. He swallowed audibly, gaze visibly wet, and blinked. There was nothing Lance could say to that.

He was speechless, _amazed_ , that the man who had once been an untouchable entity to him, was this vulnerable and not afraid to show it. Since knowing him and becoming part of Voltron together, Lance's admiration for him had only grown, as had his respect for who he was as a person. But this was one of those times where it truly sank in that Shiro was only human - just like the rest of them, and not even that much older. As cliche as it sounded, they were all in this together, all equally new to this, equally scared.

And, it suddenly clicked for Lance, that the fact that Shiro was telling these things to him, his own weaknesses and failures, that he even _had_ failures, was even more admirable and didn't diminish his view of him at all. Shiro wasn't perfect, and he didn't have to be. He just had to keep trying, and this was his way of apologising to Lance and telling him - weaknesses and admitting to them, admitting mistakes, was not a sign of failure. Giving up was, and as long as he didn't do that, he could voice his fears all he wanted.

As long as he stood up to them instead of deny them, he couldn't lose.

"And yesterday, when I blew up at you, I failed you." Shiro was continuing, having evidently caught himself enough to keep talking. He looked up at Lance, and this time, he was the one who felt like crying. Shiro looked absolutely haunted, and it wasn't just because of having broken under the not-so invisible strain of responsibility being the leader of Voltron brought. It was there in the lines beginning to show on his too young face, and the way he carried himself as if shouldering a heavy weight, the way he would distance himself occasionally from everyone else, "It wasn't fair of me and there's no excuse I can offer you for giving you much more responsibility than I should have. I'm sorry."

Silence ensued, the kind that follows after everything is laid bare and awaits judgment. Lance's lip wobbled and he sniffed.

"It's okay."

Shiro said nothing but he looked like at least some of the burden he carried had been lifted. He offered Lance a small smile. Lance returned it, eyes still wet. His voice was as raw and honest as Shiro's tale had been when he told him a heartfelt, "...thank you."

And if Lance cried, it would stay between the two of them, just like the first hug Shiro accepted by his new crew and held on a bit too tight, a bit too long, and left damp patches on Lance's shirt.

Maybe family wasn't so far away after all.

\- O -

"How is he?"

Shiro startled, an odd sight, when he left Lance's room only to walk into Keith, who was leaning against the wall beside the door. Shiro looked between him and the door, then raised his eyebrows at him.

"Why don't you go in and see for yourself?"

"Hm." Keith made a noise, not really a clear acceptance or rejection of that suggestion. He shifted his weight, put on the spot. "You know how he is. He gets riled up when I'm around and that's not really the best thing to be when he's injured like this."

Shiro crossed his arms, his expression of disbelief not fading in the least. Keith managed to hold his gaze for a whole four seconds before he dropped his eyes to the ground, face warming.

"If you're that worried, just go see him. Even if I told you he's fine, that isn't really enough, is it?"

Keith bit his lip. He looked up when Shiro laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. He smiled down at him, a bit weary but warm and genuine.

"You're friends, Keith. You said so yourself. There's nothing wrong with visiting a friend when he's sick." Shiro paused, a mischievous twist to his smile. "Besides, something tells me he wouldn't mind a piece of advice from an 'amazing' pilot and fighter like yourself."

Shiro was gone before that sunk in and turned Keith a deep crimson.

Lance thought Keith was…amazing?

He glanced at the door, inexplicably happy at the thought. His stomach flipped. Keith frowned. Maybe he shouldn't have had breakfast after all.

And maybe he should stop being a coward and actually go inside instead of dawdling outside Lance's room like a creep. If it was a normal thing to be this worried about a friend, there was no shame in checking on them, was there?

Keith closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to brace himself – and why was this so difficult anyway, this wasn't weird, this was their new normal – and knocked. Hearing a startled "Come in!", he entered bravely.

"Did you forget so – oh." Lance laid down a spoonful of food goo, looking surprised. Keith forced himself to stand still at his stare, uncomfortably warm. "Uh…did you…need something…?"

Keith shook his head, dropping himself into the empty chair by Lance's bed. He slumped a bit, crossing his arms, as he let an assessing gaze travel up and down Lance's body.

"How are you feeling?" he finally asked when Lance began to fidget. Lance narrowed his eyes at him.

"Is that a trick question? You wanna go?" He made as if to get up but Keith rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

"No, you idiot. You're hurt enough that you're not supposed to move more than the bare minimum and we have no healing pods. I'm worried about you." That last statement was accompanied by a light blush, but he forged on before Lance could call attention to it. "Am I not allowed to be, as…as your friend?"

It was interesting to see how fast Lance could go from tan to a bright, tomato red, and maybe just a little bit amusing too.

"I – uh – yeah, sure." Lance stumbled over his answer, quickly shoving the abandoned spoon of food goo into his mouth. He swallowed too quickly, breaking into a coughing fit. Keith jumped at the violent sound, hesitating to thump Lance's back lest he damage his ribs even further, so his hand just hung in the air awkwardly.

"I'll get you some water." he murmured, quickly getting up to grab the already empty glass on Lance's tray. He filled it up in the bathroom, coming back to find a wheezing Lance with a hand pressed to his ribs.

"Thanks." he gasped, taking the full glass gratefully. He gulped down about half of it before setting it back down, then looked up at Keith with a wry, somewhat pained smile. "Damn. I really need to avoid coughing, that hurt like hell."

Keith's eyes flicked down to his injury.

"I can get you some more medication. Or apply more of the lotion, if it helps with the pain." he offered, feeling quite useless. Lance blinked, then started laughing only to stop again suddenly.

"Ugh. This sucks." he grumbled, then caught Keith's slightly hurt expression in response to his reaction. "Ah, crap – I wasn't laughing at you, not really – it's just. I – I'm not used to…that kind of behaviour from you. I mean, we –"

Keith listened to Lance fumble, watching his face grow red with embarrassment, and had to smile a bit. This was a side to him he hadn't seen before and it was almost…cute. He blinked, then blushed himself. Was that a normal friend thing too, to think that kind of stuff?

"It's fine." he finally interrupted Lance, who shut up immediately. They both stared at each other for a bit too long, and a bit too pink. Keith looked away first, cursing himself when he felt his blush deepen. "Just eat your breakfast."

Keith's stomach did that weird flipping motion again when Lance laughed quietly. He looked at him from the side, breath hitching when he saw the warm smile Lance gave him. It was genuine and friendly and…

… _beautiful._

Oh. _Oh._

"Yes, _mother_."

Keith snorted, blush fading but smiling just a little.

"Shut up."

Lance only rolled his eyes but obediently continued eating. In between bites, he chattered away about inane things, much like he usually did, while Keith mostly listened, throwing in the odd remark for the sole purpose of seeing Lance's competitive nature come out...and maybe also because it was fun to see his reactions. It was easy, natural as breathing, this kind of banter; the way it had always been right from the start, even if initially, it had been more vicious than enjoyable.

If this was what friendship was, Keith liked it. He liked it a lot.

\- O -

True to Shiro's word, Lance wasn't allowed to leave his bed for a solid two weeks, except to go to the bathroom or when he very rarely managed to sneak out. He had a suspicion that those times were monitored though, since the team seemed to have developed a strict timetable for 'Lance Watch', a term he heard Hunk let slip once.

As a result, Lance was extremely bored. He couldn't go anywhere without supervision, had no training to entertain himself, and even beauty sleep lost its appeal after laying down for too long. The only good news was that strict bed rest combined with the Altean medication sped up the healing process considerably. Lance barely even noticed his ribs anymore.

Maybe it was time to try and sneak out again.

"You come here to rock out?"

Lance grinned widely when Pidge jumped. She whirled around, dropping the piece of wire she was holding onto her desk, where a piece of dismantled equipment lay.

" _Jesus!_ "

"Not quite." Lance laughed when she threw him an unimpressed look, turning her attention back to what she was working on.

"Why are you here?"

Lance pouted, dropping himself onto Pidge's bed.

"What, I can't come here to hang out with a friend?"

"Aw, cute." She didn't even turn around. "Did you come here to borrow my headphones again?"

"Now that you mention it – no. But –" Lance paused, pulling at a loose thread on his sleeve. Pidge, noting his hesitance, finally laid her equipment aside and turned to face him. "I – have a problem."

When he didn't continue, Pidge crossed her arms and looked at him critically.

"Is it your ribs?"

Lance shook his head.

"Did you hurt yourself again?" she frowned when he gave another headshake. "You have lots of problems, Lance."

He threw her a dirty look and she grinned.

"Come on, spit it out. What's up?"

Once again, Lance fell silent, fidgeting. Pidge patiently waited though she was itching to get back to her tinkering. Maybe Lance wouldn't mind if she did that while he was gathering his courage or whatever.

She was just starting to turn back to her project when he finally spoke.

"I, um, well, I may or may not, you know, kinda, well – it's a bit weird to explain – " he began, making no sense whatsoever as he avoided her eyes. Pidge gave Lance the most unimpressed stare she could manage. "…uh, okay, so I just. Okay, promise you won't laugh."

She raised an eyebrow at him, not knowing what to expect, but then nodded.

"Say it!"

She rolled her eyes.

"I promise not to laugh."

"Okay." Lance took a deep breath – no pained expression, Pidge noted in relief – and then let it all out in one big rush, "I'vebeengettingreallyweirdfeelingsandthoughtsaroundKeithandIdon'tknowwhattodo."

Pidge blinked. It took her a couple of seconds to understand what he had said, but then she tried her hardest not to laugh. And failed.

"You promised!" Lance pointed at her, scandalised and betrayed. Pidge clamped down on another giggle, lips twitching at the corners.

"Sorry, sorry – what kind of 'feelings and thoughts'?" she asked, trying to sound as professional and cool as possible. Lance sniffed at her.

"Well, um. Stuff. You know."

"Actually, I don't." she said rather drily. Lance blushed.

Well, wasn't that interesting.

She leaned forward, a knowing smile on her face.

"Come on, now…"

"Well…ugh, you know that bar fight?" he finally started properly. At her wry look, he continued hastily, "Okay, yeah, dumb question. Well, I, um. May have gotten into that fight because someone was saying really dumb stuff about Keith…"

Pidge's eyebrows shot up to her hairline.

"…and I've been, I don't know. Been thinking about him a lot, us, I guess –"

"'Us'?" she echoed, interrupting him, and Lance flinched, turning an even deeper red.

" – yeah, and I. I've been having thoughts that just – pop up –" At that, Lance stopped without a sign of continuing. Pidge stared at him, propping her face up on her hands.

"What kind of thoughts?" she purposely tried to sound kind. If what she suspected was true, this was probably quite a shock for Lance. He glanced at her, caught between panic and confusion.

"…he's pretty." he finally said, voice hushed. He didn't look at her, hunching his shoulders up a bit. "And I…I wanted to kiss him. When he bandaged me up."

And other times as well, including in a dream, but he didn't want to say that. This was already confusing and embarrassing enough. He looked up when after a few seconds Pidge didn't speak. Was she disgusted by him?

Her face was unreadable and it made a terrified shiver go down Lance's spine. What if he had just singlehandedly destroyed Voltron by telling her about these thoughts? What if she hated him now?

What if she told everyone, including _Keith_ , and they would all hate him?

Before Lance's thoughts could spiral him down into a full-on panic, she finally opened her mouth.

"Lance," she said, trying to sound as serious as she could though a slight tremble in her voice did come through, "you have a crush on Keith."

Hearing it out loud, somehow made everything worse, and better.

Worse, because it confirmed Lance's worst suspicions, worse, because while he was familiar with crushes, this was the first _thing_ he felt in response to a _guy_.

Better, because he could finally put a name to it, and labels sometimes lent an anchor amidst a sea of terror and confusion that was the heart and mind.

"I – I do?" he asked meekly. He could feel the truth of it resonate within him at Pidge's statement; it wasn't really another confirmation of his feelings he needed, but another altogether. "Am I – am I weird?"

 _Do you hate me?_

And then Pidge showed him what she very rarely did, since she usually grinned at the expense of others, or smirked because of some prank she pulled, or simply because she was the sarcastic smartass of the team and liked to wreak havoc just for the heck of it.

She showed him a smile, and it was kind and full of acceptance.

"No. It's just a crush, Lance. Everyone gets them." Her smile turned cocky. "Or is this your first crush ever? Aw, is little Lance growing up?"

And while that remark carried a bit of her usual smartass-ery, it was all that Lance needed to hear. He smiled back, wide and full of relief.

Better, because friends like Pidge existed, and with just one person on his side, maybe he could pull this off.

Pidge was a smartass, but she was Voltron's smartass, Lance's smartass, and he wouldn't trade her for the world.

* * *

sorry, I was going to add on to that last bit from the last chapter but then didn't quite manage. Hope you enjoyed this update!

Additionally, updates for this may slow down to once a week or so now as I'm also working on another multichap and some real life stuff. Thank you for your patience :)


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